
Waiting for spring
tiny summer orchids
brighten
my memory

Waiting for spring
tiny summer orchids
brighten
my memory
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Posted in Uncategorized

A yellow lady slipper
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The light that guides one home
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A jar etched with your name
a single petal from a faded rose
a golden leaf
two pebbles from a distant island shore
a ring too small
a button covered with blue silk
a single pearl from a necklace
broken long ago
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Moon shadow
purple pines
darken the snow
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On her birthday
in pink satin
with her new helmet
and her new scooter
my lady rides
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Tree
deep rooted in the earth
laced into sky
map of generations
outliving all
cliche of truth
in a hundred languages.
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Dark blue skies in the evening light
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Let wayward fingers
prize words out of the ether
minus thought
and drift on the edge
across the final bar
that fences the horizon
only the white flag
signals trust
I hoist the blank page
and hope
there are words, and wordlings
far beyond my minding
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Posted in art
The ravages of time–a cliche
but she knew that was the only way
she saw the mirror
All other words
she wrote on candy wrappers
tossed into the sea
Posted in Poetry

As the crone sat dreaming beside the summer sea
Posted in Heart Bags, Poetry

Posted in art
The words slip into a darkling cave
Bats hang in bunches from a stone shelf
I can go no further lest I lose the sun
I dare not use the lamp he gave me
Creatures that live in darkness fear the light
but I was born in the morning and this place refuses me
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Crone recalls the schoolhouse dance
He plays an old record
the mellow tones of the saxaphone
a piano, a base, a drum or two
and the big band songs that they made their own
as they danced until dawn
and kissed at the gate
as her landlady checked
when she came in late
Posted in art
Cat Morning
Morning
the little cat goes in and out
unable to decide whether wind and rain
are dangerous
Above the walk
the giant fronds of the palm
have no shadows
but cry out
The leaves of the grape vine
squish underfoot
and the dove’s voice
cannot be heard
Misty, the old cat
refuses to leave her cosy spot
but the kitten looks at me
expecting me to turn off the weather
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Drift westward on receding tide
My sail furled no longer strives to reach the shore
No boundaries edge the distant sea
No soft spoken passenger asks a plan or place
Alone with my boat into the setting sun
my wake collects my shadow into night
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized